Caution: This chapter isn't edited. I'll apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typos.

Hermione felt like she was immobilized by a spell on her spot when she heard a very familiar voice just behind them and she knew that she wasn't alone when she felt both of her companions turned rigid. She doesn't need this right now. All she wants was to spend the entire afternoon with both of her friends and forget about everything. She doesn't want to even make a scene in the middle of Diagon Alley.

She felt Pansy gave her arm a light squeezed before she watched the raven haired girl turned around and plastered a fake smile on her annoyed facial expression towards the culprit.

"What does this look like?" She heard the girl asked with a sneer. "I'm having an afternoon stroll with both of my friends. If you don't have to do anything except for tormenting this two then please leave, I don't have time for you. All three of us do."

The ex-Slytherin in front of them just chuckled and smirked. Hermione, who had her head hung low, suddenly felt like someone was staring at her with such intensity, making her look up and meet his hot gaze. Instead of looking away though, her eyes hardened into a glare as she held her head high and pointedly looked at him. But instead of being annoyed on what the Gryffindor was doing, the smirk winded with delight.

"Hanging out with Gryffindorks now Pansy? How low can you be?" He asked, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

His question though just raged a fire inside both of the Gryffindors as they try to stand their ground for their friend's sake.

Pansy though just rolled her eyes and pulled both witches by her side and sweetly smiled at the wizard in front of them. "I didn't step down on lower ranks, I simply did the opposite."

Without hearing what his response would be, Pansy already left, her hands still firmly glued to the stumbling witches behind her.

Hermione didn't even have the chance to look back at the bemused wizard. She never thought that she'll see his face again after the war. His looks changed as time passed by yet for her, his attitude would always be the same. Well, they do say changing is the hardest part in life especially if you dreadfully needed to.

No one ever dared to talk about the scene they caused. All they did was shove it back to their darkest part of their minds to rot as they chatted away.

She is back where she started that day. Back to the reality where all she feels are hurt, guilt and uneasiness. Back to her own world, inside her supposed to be sanctuary. Back to where she is hugged by the darkness.

And when she stepped inside her own cocoon inside her sanctuary, her world came crushing down; punishing her, reminding her that she shouldn't feel any happiness. She can't be happy when the heart she broke was not even close to being one. She should be ashamed. Ashamed that she let herself fall out of love. She should feel guilt, be overwhelmed by it. The guilt she would feel is not even enough to heal a broken heart. The heart she broke, the heart of her best friend, her first love.

She didn't cry though, not a single drop wasted. She would never let herself cry over it ever again. She should even let it all go like how she had let him go but she can't. She can't help but think that, if she did, she'll drown. Drown in her tears of sorrow. Drown in her never ending guilt.

She doesn't even know why she feels so much guilt over a thing like that. Maybe it was the pain in his eyes, or maybe because he said it was his fault why she decided to leave him, to walk out of his life, or maybe because she knows their old friendship would be forever stained. And it's all her fault.

She knows one thing for sure. She will forever be a prisoner of her own shame and guilt that keeps flooding through her by waves. She deserves it, all of it. No one deserves it more than she does. She brought herself into this and she is paying. Paying on the pain she caused him and her guilt is her payment.

She fell asleep too fast. Once her mind had its crash down, sleep quickly engulfed her. She doesn't want to sleep. Being asleep means dreams and dreams are not always pleasant. That's why we have nightmares.

From young she was taught that nightmares only show what you are afraid off. The worst scenarios you can think off. It consists of monsters that are always hiding, lurking in the darkest shadows. Monsters that would be the reason you wake up in tears and ragged breaths. But they did not bother to add that nightmares can be reality itself. Those nightmares would play out the same scenarios every single time.

Those were her kind of nightmares. Her mind would always show how he reacted. The pain in his eyes seemed so real and she can actually feel it even in her sleep. It was the worst kind of all and she wanted it to stop.

She would always remember how his eyes looked deep inside. It was forever sketched on her mind. His eyes looked so cold and empty. The spark of life gone; It was like his life was literally been kicked out of his body, and she hated it. She hated everything starting from that point of her life.

It happened again, like most nights. It was her nightly routine now. She'll walk inside her room for the thousand time, change into a shirt he formally owned. Then when her frail body feels the cold crisp sheets of her bed, her eyes would stare at her ceiling until it gave in to sleep. Her sleep would always start out with nothing. Then suddenly she'll see his face scrunched up with pain he felt with her words. As if her mind had enough, she'll wake up in the middle of the night, stressed and her breathing ragged.

Ad she did. She did all of that and found herself wide awake in the middle of the night. Knowing she won't be able to coax herself to go back to sleep, she stood up and grabbed one of her robes. There is only one thing that could make her fall asleep without the dreams taunting her, one thing that would make her too numb to care. It wasn't the best solution but like everybody else, she is desperate. With only wearing an oversized shirt and pajama shorts under her robes she then left her flat with a loud 'crack'.

The witch found herself stumbling upon an old pub just a few miles away from her flat. Ignoring the looked by standers were giving her, she then pushed the rickety door open and let herself in. The place was packed on a Saturday night. Wizards and witches were everywhere, drinking and chatting up. Placing herself in front of the bar, she then called for the wizard who would cater her.

A wizard then came to her. Looking a bit older than her, the man smiled at her and nodded. He would recognize that face anywhere after the wizarding war. "Ms. Granger, what do we own your pleasure?"

Hermione smiled and didn't even bother to think twice as she said. "Your strongest firewhiskey"

Even though the witch by the bar isn't a heavy drinker, the drinks still find their ways to her grasp. Waiting, that's all she had been doing since her first glass, waiting for the numbing feeling to overtake her. To numb the hurt that won't seem to leave her.

As her 6th glass was placed in front of her, she knew that someone was watching her from a distance. Frowning, she then turned her head and searched the sea of magical creatures. Everybody that came within her range of vision seemed to have their own state of mind. Almost thinking she was being delusional when her eyes caught a certain shade of blondness just by the far back of the pub.

She knew the wizard too well. It felt like he was the one who was boring holes on her back but he was too far back, it was impossible for him to even notice her.

Then suddenly brown met grey.